Delivering Miracles
by Saezuri Nohito
Summary: He was the son of Witch and the Sadist. She was a lost girl who didn't belong. Canon & OC pairings. Excerpt from Chapter 7: 'Moon’s blood,' Daemon barely nodded to Beale as he headed straight towards the den. 'Damara’s having her moon’s blood.'
1. Chapter 1

Notes: _"Speech" _– said in a foreign language.

_Words _– sentences where almost all of its words are in italics are people's thoughts.

**Speech** - conversations said with psychic threads, for example, a Black thread.

.-.-.

Chapter One

.-.-.

1 - ? (Closed forest territory in the mountains)

.-.-.

Yaslana SaDiablo flew through the clouds with his Craft-made black Eyrien wings, practically invisible against the night sky in his entirely black outfit. He was heading towards his cabin, a getaway much like the one his mother had at his age; intending to get a peaceful night's sleep in solitude, when a spot of white moving on the ground through the forest beneath him caught his sapphire eyes.

Flying lower, he caught the whiff of a psychic scent. A _female _psychic scent.

He frowned. What was a woman doing in the middle of a forest, a part of a closed territory in the _mountains_ nevertheless; so late at night, all alone?

He caught up with her easily, and, vanishing his wings; he called out to her. "Excuse me?"

He saw her petite frame freeze before she turned around slowly and stared at him with her dark brown eyes. He stared back at her, taking in her whole, odd, appearance: straight black hair that fell to the middle of her back, which framed her face that had on spectacles, a face which was looking suspiciously at him, eyebrows furrowed; an ankle length, brightly-colored, slim skirt covering her legs, revealing to him the fact that she was bare-footed; and the short sleeved white shirt she wore had on writing he'd never seen before.

...Not to mention the branch she was holding, that was her height and had a diameter so wide it took up her whole hand, which she held in a stance, looking ready to beat the Hell out of him if he did anything suspicious.

Keeping a watchful eye on the branch – she looked like she knew how to use it, plus it was rather menacingly sharp at the presently upward end – he asked, "Are you lost?"

Her eyebrows furrowed even further. _"I don't understand what you're saying," _she said in her language.

Yaslana blinked. _What language did she just use? _he wondered, for it sounded unfamiliar even to him, who was fluent in many languages.

He ran a hand through his black hair, an action he did unconsciously when he was frustrated. _Fantastic. I can't understand what she says and she can't understand what I say. We sure will be making progress soon_ he thought sarcastically.

He pointed to the watch on his wrist and prayed silently that she would understand what he was going to say. "It's late," he said. "Let me –," he pointed to himself, "take you," he pointed to her, "out of here," he ended by jerking his thumb behind him, as if to show her that over there was the exit out of the forest.

She nodded slowly, hesitantly, and was even more hesitant when he outstretched a hand to her.

After placing the branch on the ground gently, muttering something under her breath, words he couldn't hear and wouldn't have understood if he heard them anyway; she placed her hand in his – after pausing once when they were already near enough to touch – her hand which was incredibly delicate and soft, compared to his large, calloused ones.

"Hang on," he said in what he hoped was a deceptively soothing voice so as not to frighten her, before he caught an Ebon-gray Wind to ride on and disappeared from the forest.

.-.-.

2 - ? (Still in the closed territory in the mountains, but out of the forest)

.-.-.

They landed at the foot of the hill that housed his cabin, which was no gently sloped heap of land.

He resisted from letting out a sigh of exasperation. From the way she had instinctively grabbed hold of his sleeve for a more secure grasp earlier when they rode the Wind, it seemed to be her first ride. Point was, suddenly sprouting bat-like wings might more than just creep her out, and him carrying her wasn't an option because she'd instantly let go of him when they'd landed, a sure sign of wariness.

He once again offered his hand to her. She looked at him confusedly. Wasn't that cabin up there their destination?

He pointed to her feet, which were dirty, and no doubt full of scrapes and perhaps cuts here and there; result of the walking she had done as she tried to find her way out of the forest earlier.

Wondering what he was going to do, what with making them teleport so suddenly earlier, without warning; she once again slipped her hand into his and jumped a bit when she suddenly floated on air. Not much above the ground, but _still_. On _air_. With only his hand as an anchor.

They walked – on air – towards what she assumed to be his home, which looked completely dark inside. She wondered if he lived alone and immediately decided to stop thinking further. No one needs to know that she was going to spend a night alone with a man who wasn't her relative or husband, so she wasn't going to think about it.

She let go of his hand once they landed on his doorstep and entered as he ushered her into the suddenly brightening little bungalow. He led her through what looked to be the sitting room and adjoining kitchen and to the first door in the corridor. Opening that door, it revealed itself to be a bedroom. _His _bedroom.

He went over to the wardrobe and began going through his clothes. At a loss of what to do with herself; she stood awkwardly beside him, readying herself just in case she saw an embarrassing piece of clothing by accident.

He took out the shortest, smallest shirt he had – which still reached the middle of her thighs, its sleeves her elbows, as they could see when he held it up against her – and held the shortest pants he had that weren't boxers against her too, to see if they would fit her, only to find them to be longer than her legs by at _least _a _foot_ and that its waistband was almost _twice _the size of her slim waist.

He couldn't resist sighing this time, as he took out his bathrobe and hoped it would be sufficient for her.

She took both (the shirt and the bathrobe) and headed towards what she assumed was the adjoining bathroom he'd pointed at, after he handed her a towel. Only after that did he leave, closing the bedroom door gently behind him.

.-.-.

3 – Yaslana's cabin

.-.-.

She left the sanctuary of his bedroom to find him fixing something up in his kitchen. He turned to look over at her for a moment, surprised that she had been so quick. "That was fast," he commented even though he knew she wouldn't understand, before going back to his cooking.

Not feeling like sitting, she wandered to the sitting room, looking at the portraits on the walls. She saw a couple in one, the man an older version of him while the woman shared his eyes. She felt that they were his parents.

"They're my parents," his voice suddenly said from the kitchen, as he set the finished meal on the table before heading towards her. He gestured towards another portrait where there was a baby with a slight younger-looking version of his parents. He pointed at the baby. "That's me," he said, pointing towards himself, "Tomorrow -," he pointed to his watch, indicating time, "I'm taking you to my parents'," he pointed at them, "place," he pointed to another portrait of a great many people in front of an impressive building that was his parents' – as well as his – home.

Then he went back towards the table, seating himself on one side of it. "Come. It's late. We should eat," he said before he dug in.

She went to the sink to wash her hands before joining him, and there was a peaceful air between them as they dwelled in their thoughts in silence. He finished first, and went to wash his plate. By the time he was done, she had finished her meal and was standing beside him in front of the sink, waiting for her turn. He placed his hand on her plate to take it, but she took it away before he could, eyebrows furrowed at him. Then she began washing her plate before he could proceed to explain that he was offering to wash it for her.

His eyebrows rose a little – not too much for her to notice, though then again she was putting all of her concentration into vigorously washing her plate – and couldn't help but smirk a little. She was feisty, for a female who was alone with a male she didn't know, at night and at his place, to boot.

The thought reminded him of how he founded her earlier. Judging by her light brown skin and dark hair, it was possible that she had one of the three long-living races in her blood. But her dark brown eyes betrayed the fact that if she was from one of those races, then she was only a half breed. After all, people from those races all had golden eyes. She must be an aristo as well, or at least from a well-off family, judging by her smooth, not calloused hands.

But what baffled him was how she had reacted when he'd use Craft for them to ride the Wind and air-walk to his cabin. She had a psychic scent, that wasn't any of the hierocracy statuses of a Queen, a Black Widow, a Healer or even a Priestess; but it was definitely that of a witch's...so why did it seem as if she's never seen Craft before?

He shook his head, as if the action would rid him of the pestering thoughts. No use pondering on them. He'll get all the answers tomorrow – hopefully – when he brings her to his parents.

"_Excuse me?" _she asked, waving a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his reverie.

She cocked her head to one side, looking questioningly at him. He only smiled, and before he could stop himself, his hand automatically ruffled her mop of already tousled hair in a big-brotherly way, unable to resist how adorable she'd looked when she had cocked her head a little to side like that.

Luckily, she didn't' seem to mind, and he led them back to his bedroom, where he took a pillow from his bed and an extra blanket from the closet, and was about to go out to sleep on one of the couches in the sitting room, when she grabbed a hold of his sleeve for the second time that night.

She let go of his sleeve and placed a hand on her shirt-plus-bathrobe covered chest. _"My name is Damara. Da-ma-ra. Tha-Thank you very much for everything you've done for me tonight."_

Yaslana couldn't help but blink. Did she just tell him her name? It seemed like it. He felt warmed by the action. Telling a complete stranger, savior (considerably speaking, he did rescue her from the forest) or not; one's name was most certainly a sign of trust. "Yaslana. Yaslana SaDiablo," he introduced himself, then paused, before checking to make sure if Damara really was her name. "Damara."

"_Yaslana," _his name rolled off her tongue smoothly and a shiver – not one of fright that was for sure – went down his spine like that of a caressing hand belonging to a lover. Oh yes, he needed to go to sleep right now, before his cursed body makes him take a cold shower. A long, _long, ice-cold _one.

She gave him a half curtsy. _"Thank you. Thank you for everything."_

It seemed like she was thanking him. So he said, "You're welcome, Damara," before letting himself out.

She still saw him to the door, though. _"Good night."_

Listening to the instinct developing in him, the instinct that automatically tries to decipher what she was saying; Yaslana felt she just wished him a good night. "Good night."

Then she closed the door and he made himself comfortable on his three-seated couch, where he slept peacefully until the sun rose, as he originally intended to do even before he met the girl who was sleeping soundly in his bed; losing himself in a dreamless slumber.

.-.-.

_To be continued_

.-.-.

This is my first ever 'Black Jewels Trilogy' fanfic. Hope you all liked it. Thanks for taking your time to read 'Delivering Miracles.' Here's a preview of chapter two:

.-.-.

Chapter Two

.-.-.

1 – Kaeleer

.-.-.

Daemon Saetan SaDiablo was going through some papers in his study when his son called him on an Ebon-gray thread. **Father?**

Daemon wondered why Yaslana was using _that _tone. The last time he heard his only child use _that_ particular tone was when he wanted to take in a stray _dragon _– which was many, many years ago. **Son? I thought you went to your cabin. Did something happen?**

It was a moment before he replied. **Yes. Can we use your study?**

**Of course.** He began to clear his table, wondering what had brought his child home from his intended stay at his cabin in the mountains. He hoped it wasn't _another_ baby _Warlord Prince_ dragon with amnesia, who mistook his child for its mother and brought the real thing – as in the _real _mother, Queen of the dragons of the Fyeborn Islands to boot – to SaDiablo Hall, looking like she could demolish the majestic building with a mere wisp of her breath.

Hell's fire, he _might _be the son of Lorn's soul, but saying such a fact to a worried, anxious dragon Queen – who was a direct descendant of Lorn and Draca, the founders of the Blood – wasn't the most ingenious of ideas.

Luckily his 'mate' – as the kindred would say it – was the Lady, and well, let's just say that the SaDiablo Hall was still standing, unharmed.

And then he snapped out of his thoughts as the door to his study opened.

.-.-.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

.-.-.

1 – SaDiablo Hall, Daemon's study

.-.-.

Daemon Saetan SaDiablo was going through some papers in his study when his son called him on an Ebon-gray thread. **Father?**

Daemon wondered why Yaslana was using _that _tone. The last time he heard his only child use _that_ particular tone was when he wanted to take in a stray _dragon _– which was many, many years ago. **Son? I thought you went to your cabin. Did something happen?**

It was a moment before he replied. **Yes. Can we use your study?**

**Of course.** He began to clear his table, wondering what had brought his child home from his intended stay at his cabin in the mountains. He hoped it wasn't _another_ baby _Warlord Prince_ dragon with amnesia, who mistook his child for its mother and brought the real thing – as in the _real _mother, Queen of the dragons of the Fyeborn Islands to boot – to SaDiablo Hall, looking like she could demolish the majestic building with a mere wisp of her breath.

Hell's fire, he _might _be the son of Lorn's soul, but saying such a fact to a worried, anxious dragon Queen – who was a direct descendant of Lorn and Draca, the founders of the Blood – wasn't the most ingenious of ideas.

Luckily his 'mate' – as the kindred would say it – was the Lady, and well, let's just say that the SaDiablo Hall was still standing, unharmed.

And then he snapped out of his thoughts as the door to his study opened.

His wife entered, leading a cloaked girl inside with their son following close behind them. The girl was slightly shorter than his wife, with dark hair and shy, dark brown eyes that held an innocence rarely seen anymore in girls her age. Yet, those eyes also shone brightly with unveiled intelligence, and he instantly felt a fatherly affection for her, as though she was the daughter he and Jaenelle couldn't have.

"Daemon," his beloved wife said. "Meet Damara. Damara, this is Daemon, Yaslana's father and my husband."

Those eyes met his politely and she gave him a friendly smile. _"Pleased to meet you, sir."_

Daemon's eyebrows rose upon hearing the foreign language she was speaking. He looked questioningly at his son, who sighed as he sat on one of the study's couches.

"Let me explain, Father, Mother. It all began like this. . ."

By the time he finished, Damara had tasted all sorts of Mrs. Beale's snacks, which Jaenelle encouraged (or perhaps bullied) her into eating.

"Didn't you. . .?" Daemon asked, leaving the sentence hanging, but his son, a true combination of himself and Jaenelle, understood.

Yaslana shrugged. "I'm a stranger who can't speak her language, and I didn't know how to explain to her that I would like to look into her mind. Plus," he added wryly. "I'm male and she might clobber me if she didn't understand what I was doing."

From the way his son had described the first frontal view he had of the brunette, Daemon had no doubt that Damara really would have clobbered Yaslana if she didn't know he meant no harm, broken tree branch in hand or not.

Jaenelle placed her hands on both sides of Damara's temple, her fingertips barely touching her head. "I'm going to look into your mind, Damara," she said, using a tone that emphasized on being soothing. "Don't be afraid, alright?"

Damara blinked before closing her eyes. A short instant later, Jaenelle removed her hands, looking dazed. Which was quite rare when you're her, with everything she's seen.

"Darling. . .?" Daemon questioned worriedly. Their son looked concerned as well.

"The place where she's from. . .," Jaenellle began to say. "Is very different from here. And. . .it seems that it doesn't exist in any of our realms."

.-.-.

2 – SaDiablo Hall, Daemon's study

.-.-.

Two pairs of male eyes, one gold and the other blue like hers; stared at her, while a third, a fellow female's; looked worried.

"Then where. . .?"

Jaenelle patted Damara's hands that were clutching her brightly colored skirt covering her lap reassuringly, trying to convince her that she'd done nothing wrong. "From a place I've never seen before. It doesn't look like it'd fit in any of the realms. As for who sent her here. . .I didn't see who did it, but I'm certain that it was someone extremely powerful."

For someone who was the most powerful Witch known in history, such praise was chilling.

Yaslana looked stumped. _Now what. . ._

"Well then," Jaenelle said, taking a surprised Damara up with her. "Please take care of the rest, you two." She went out with Damara in tow, leaving behind a puzzled son and a husband who understood the unspoken words in her sentence.

Yaslana looked at his father, who was finishing his tea. "What did Mother mean by that, Father?"

Daemon set his cup on the table. "She wants us to send messages to everyone, to ask if they know Damara."

"Oh." Sapphire eyes glanced at the closed door. "And meanwhile Mother will be doing. . .?"

There was a glint he'd never seen before in his father's eyes. "Your mother, though not into outfits much herself, seems to have inherited your Grandfather's love of dressing up young girls recently."

Yaslana's eyes widened. "You mean. . ."

His father's smile grew. "Yes. Your mother's gone shopping."

.-.-.

_To be continued_

.-.-.

Hope Chapter Two's alright. Thanks for taking your time to read 'Delivering Miracles.' Till Chapter Three, then.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Speech _**– Damara's thoughts in her language.

**Speech**- conversations said with psychic threads, for example, a Black thread. Also means that it is kindred speaking.

.-.-.

Chapter Three

.-.-.

1 – SaDiablo Hall

.-.-.

Damara, clad in a loose blue tunic and comfortable trousers; decided to explore the vast garden of SaDiablo Hall as everyone, namely Yaslana and his parents; weren't awake yet. Beale offered to accompany her, but she declined politely as she wanted to do her own exploring.

Which was why she was crouching down to touch a beautiful flower, that looked like one from where she came from, except it was lavender in color, in utter fascination.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" a voice suddenly said.

The owner of the voice, a woman who looked to be in her mid-forties, crouched down beside her, smiling. Wondering if the woman had just praised the flower as her instinct told her, she nodded. For some reason, this woman reminded her of Uncle Daemon.

Before she cold try to remember if the woman had been in one of the pictures she saw in Uncle Daemon's study, she heard a man clear his throat from behind them.

An older, but instead of being beautiful, he was a handsome version; of Uncle Daemon smiled at her as he joined their crouching position near the flower. "You must be Damara. I'm Saetan, Daemon's father," he placed a hand on the woman's shoulder as he joined them. "This is Tersa."

One of the pictures she'd seen yesterday flashed in her mind. They were in it, the man had been standing closely behind the woman, and they seemed comfortable with the lack of space. _**They must be Uncle Daemon's parents** _she thought.

Tersa plucked the flower she'd been fascinated by and placed it as a matter of factly in her hair where her ponytail began. She patted Damara's hands that were in her lap in what the girl could tell was a motherly gesture, saying, "For you."

Damara wasn't sure how to react._ "Thank you."_

Saetan stood up, offering a hand each to both of them. "Come. Let's meet the others."

With Tersa in the middle, they entered the Hall, where Beale greeted them with unmasked delight. "High Lord! Lady Tersa!"

"Beale," Saetan said equally back. "Have those two 'teenagers' come down yet?"

"Papa," a grumpy female voice trailed from upstairs. "Yas's past his teens already."

When the two so called 'teens' came into view, the smirk on Daemon's face belied the fact that he understood just who Saetan had been talking about, unlike his still half-asleep counterpart.

"Where is the boy?" Tersa asked, as she embraced Daemon, who kissed her on the cheek.

"He's still showering," Daemon answered his mother, that feeling of pleasure at seeing her again, without fail, swamped him.

They all went into the dining hall to eat breakfast. Midway, Yaslana finally appeared, and seated himself on Damara's right after kissing his grandmother on the cheek and giving his grandfather a brief squeeze on the shoulder. His grandmother was seated at his usual seat, on his now fully conscious mother's left at the head of the table, while beside her was his grandfather and on Damara's left was his father.

They were a lively bunch, with Jaenelle chatting amiably now that she wasn't grumpy anymore after her cup of coffee; and the others, excluding Damara, inserted comments here and there. Damara wasn't left out though, as Jaenelle made illusions of the things she was talking about so she could at least have a grasp of what the topic was.

Just when they were finishing, the doors opened and in strode the remaining SaDiablo Eyriens.

"Lucivar!" Jaenelle said, delighted, going over to him, who ruffled her hair.

"Cat," he responded, and then looked at his older half brother. "Old son."

'Old son' raised an eyebrow at him. "Prick."

"Father," he continued, who gave him a smile, while he gave a simple nod of respect to Tersa.

Then he turned his attention to his nephew and the girl beside him. "So Yas," he said to his namesake. "This the waif you picked up? She's cute."

His son, Daemon's namesake, stepped forward after being greeted by his aunt, and let out a teasing whistle. "Whoa cousin, you have good taste. So when's the wedding?" he asked teasingly, smirking.

His mother whacked him lightly on the arm. "Daemonar," she said in a motherly tone. "Don't tease him so. _You're _the one who's at a more marriageable age, if I may remind you," she added slyly.

_That_ certainly shut him up, making everyone laugh. Marian was a gentle woman, but, as her husband liked to put it, could get feisty when she's riled or when she puts her mind to it.

Marian turned to Damara, feeling an attachment to her instantly, because she'd been in the same situation about three decades ago. But at least she could understand what the others say and had a choice whether she wanted to go home or not. From Daemon's message, it sounded as if she had no choice; she couldn't go back to wherever she was from.

She embraced the girl. "Don't worry, Damara. You're in good hands. We'll take care of you."

She wasn't sure if the spectacled girl understood, but was glad that her embrace was returned, albeit hesitantly. Well, a few weeks here will change that, no worries.

"Breakfast?" Tersa asked of the three newcomers.

Lucivar shook his head. "We already ate." He gestured outside. "It's lovely out. Why don't we chat outside?"

Everyone agreed, and Damara was flanked by Jaenelle and Marian, Saetan by his sons, while Daemonar and Yaslana exchanged words over Tersa's head as they stepped out to enjoy the weather and to catch up with each other's lives.

.-.-.

2 – SaDiablo Hall's gardens

.-.-.

The first thing Surreal noticed about his lost girl Yaslana found were her eyes. They were the type of eyes that, if she'd lost hope in the war against Tereille years and years ago, would have made her keep on going. Because one look in those eyes and she would be reminded that there were still people out there worth fighting for, even if she didn't know them, who were trapped between two warring forces, unable to do anything; people who were innocent and deserved to live.

"Well, sugar," she said as she embraced her. "If I saw anyone who shares your eyes, I'd be sure to remember." _Because they're the type you don't forget easily._

Just then, Wilhelmina, her husband and daughter Jade (Dejaal's namesake) along with Khary, Morghann and their son Morton (Karla's cousin Morton's namesake), came; not long after their batch, her husband Rainier and their son Thierry, plus her kinsmen Chaosti and Gabrielle with their daughter Titian (her mother's namesake) did. The poor girl, who was the reason why they all came, must be reeling from meeting so many new people in such a short time.

But Damara didn't look reeled. She embraced each of her fellow females warmly and smiled just as warmly at every male. Surreal admired her for that. _She _herself had taken quite a bit of time getting used to her extensive adopted family. _So she must be from a large family then _the Gray-jeweled witch thought. _Or at least is used to dealing with a large crowd..._

Damara, after a while, decided she needed some space and quiet. Sure, she was used to being in the midst of many people, being from a big family herself, but that didn't mean she could stand it for a straight few hours without having time to herself, even if it was for only five minutes.

**Are you she-kitten? **a male voice said in her head.

She turned to see two big, no wait, scratch that – _humungous _figures emerging from the trees. Two albino tigers – both whose _heads _reached her _shoulders _easily.

She couldn't help but stare. She didn't realize that tigers could grow to such a size. But then again, this was a place where one could teleport or walk on air, so why be surprised?

The slightly – just slightly – bigger one seemed to be sniffing the air. **You have the scent of our cousins, the cats; happy, loved ones, on you**, he said approvingly. **You are a good she-kitten.**

She hid her hands behind her, afraid that if she didn't, she wouldn't be able to control the itching feeling she felt to brush her hand against their beautiful white fur. She fleetingly wondered if she had gone mad.

The slightly smaller built one, who had greenish-yellow eyes as opposed to the other's bloodshot red ones, brushed against her. **Fret not**, a female voice, this time; said. **You can pet us.**

Taking the female tiger's action as a show of permission, she ran a hand on the majestic head and reveled in its warmth and how it held no difference with that of her cats' fur back home.

Kaelas watched his mate letting the lost she-kitten stroke her and smiled in a way only Arcerians did. Ever since they had adopted Della, KaeAskavi's she-kitten; who was now a she-cat; she had softened towards humans, particularly she-kittens. Especially now that Della had mated and moved away, though her home was quite near and they visited (on both sides) quite frequently.

Kaelas let the two females have another moment of peaceful bliss before he brushed against his mate. **Come. Let us meet the others.**

When they reappeared where the others were; many a jaw, except perhaps two, dropped open. After all, the sight of two albino Arcerians, the Warlord prince and Queen of them nevertheless; flanking a completely unafraid, petite girl who had no abilities that could protect her from, the very least, their teeth and claws; was an admittedly impressive sight to behold. Only Jaenelle smiled, and Tersa had a knowing look in her far-seeing golden eyes.

Then again, Damara herself was a mystery, being able to attract so many people to want to meet her, just by their looking at her picture. Oh yes, she was a mystery indeed, Yaslana felt after collecting his jaw from the floor, watching her meet Aunt Karla, Ladvarian and his mate, who'd come when she disappeared earlier.

Then those eyes met his and she smiled, giving him a small wave. He smiled back, ignoring his cousins, Daemonar and Jade, who teased him. He was sure that she was a mystery he wouldn't regret finding, as he turned his attention back to his two cousins, teasing Jade about her suspicious glances at Morton and how Aunt Marian could detect that Daemonar already had a woman in mind for marriage, whose name was Arianna and had just come with her parents, Uncle Aaron and Aunt Kalush.

.-.-.

_To be continued_

.-.-.

And that's Chapter Three. Hope it's alight. Thank you for taking your time to read 'Delivering Miracles.' I'll be back in Chapter Four.

To anonymous reviewers: Please leave you e-mail when you review. I'd like to thank you all personally ;p Thank you for your cooperation.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

.-.-.

1 – SaDiablo Hall, Drilling area

.-.-.

Lucivar turned around, surprised to find that a certain spectacled girl was already up. She smiled at him, sitting down on the bench near the drilling area, apparently with the intent to watch him doing his drills by himself.

His mind trailed back to when his namesake had described how Damara had enough sense to carry a weapon with her when she wandered the forest she'd been in, looking like she knew how to use it – and he promptly decided to test if that theory was true.

He strode towards her, calling in an extra Eyrien stick. She looked surprised, as he handed it to her. "Let's see if you really _can _spar."

Her eyes widened and he knew she understood what he just said. But she pointed to her simply tied in a ponytail hair and her spectacles, as though in protest. Not one to be beaten, Lucivar expertly braided her hair with Craft and, placing her glasses on the bench, he waved a hand over her eyes, using Craft to restore her sight temporarily.

Damara gave out a sigh of defeat, and, whilst muttering something in her language that Lucivar was sure were curses concerning him; took off her gold necklace that had two pendants dangling on it – a golden, heart-shaped one with one letter in her language on it, and the other, a silver one with an amethyst shaped into a tear – for extra measure and rolled up her sleeves. And wasn't it _just _convenient that she decided _not_ to wear a skirt today?

Lucivar watched as she slipped into a stance, one he'd never seen before, which was rather well-posed. Her eyes, more pronounced with her spectacles off; stayed on his golden ones unflinchingly, waiting for him to make his move.

He resisted a smirk. His fighting instinct told him it was going to be an interesting fight.

.-.-.

2 – SaDiablo Hall

.-.-.

Yaslana considered blasting the bedroom door that was being banged on by his oh-so irritating older, winged cousin. It was practically _dawn_, dammit.

Then Daemonar's next words made him almost fall out of his bed. "You_ have_ to see this! _My father's sparring with your waif!"_

He was still tying his robe together when he practically stormed out of his room. "_What!"_

Daemonar hurried on. "They've been at if for Mother Night knows how long. But Dad was _sweating_, so it must've been quite a bit."

Yaslana snarled, quickening his pace. "If this _another _one of your _pranks_-"

Daemonar cut him off. "Even _I'm _not _suicidal_ enough to do _that_. You take after Aunt J in the early morning department, remember?"

Ignoring that comment, Yaslana walked as fast as he could to the drilling area, in time to see 'his' petite waif blocking his Uncle Lucivar's attack, managing to even push him back.

Everyone was there, including the servants. Yaslana was sure that it was the first time he'd seen everyone assembled together so early in the morn.

Lucivar attempted to hit her on the head, but she blocked that too. But then, suddenly, she was falling, as Lucivar had swiped her feet from under her.

But she managed to place a hand on the ground before her whole body could completely fall, and with her other hand that held her stick, swiped Lucivar off _his _feet.

Before Lucivar could recover, she did, and flung his stick away before placing the end of her stick at his throat. He was completely under her mercy.

Lucivar couldn't help it. He laughed and let himself up with the help of her stick. "Well," he began, patting her on the head approvingly. "Once you're not reluctant to fight, you sure are a force to be reckoned with." He smiled. "Waif."

Meanwhile, the others were in shock.

"She put Lucivar in the dirt," Daemon muttered, bewildered. He turned to his wife, "Right?"

Jaenelle, amused, leaned against him reassuringly. "Yes. She put him in the dirt," she confirmed, as though she was speaking to a child.

"She won." That was Saetan. Almost comically identical in action to his namesake, he turned to someone for confirmation, that someone being Tersa. "She _did_, didn't she?"

Tersa patted his cheek. "Yes. The girl won."

"She kicked his ass," Surreal said disbelievingly. "On her _first _try."

Rainier placed an arm around his assassin of a wife. "Yes. She did."

"Lucivar _lost_," Wilhelmina said. She made it sound more like a question than a statement.

Her husband, Sinclair; wrapped an arm around her waist. "Yes. He did."

"She took down Lucivar," Chaosti mumbled. _"Lucivar."_

"Yes." Gabrielle linked an arm around her usually always composed husband's arm in amusement. "Lucivar."

"Lucivar got himself whooped," Khary said dazedly. "By a _girl_."

"Yes," Morghann agreed readily, though in other circumstances, she would've been offended by such a sexist remark. "By a girl."

"_Lucivar _was _beaten_?" Aaron said. "In a _drill_?"

"Yes." Kalush said gently, taking her husband's hands in hers and squeezing them soothingly. "He was."

Morton directed an odd look to Yaslana. "Should I wish you luck?" he said in a strange tone, Jade on his arm, looking dazed.

"She's good," was all Titian could manage. Thierry could only nod in agreement.

"You'll have to be on your guard with that one," Daemonar commented, Arianna beside him. "She's _feistier_ than my _mother_."

"I heard _that_," said mother said, watching as her husband and Damara headed towards them.

Yaslana went towards the dark haired girl as soon as he could gather his wits. She looked unharmed though, just tired and rather sweaty. Then again, this was his Uncle Lucivar who'd been her opponent, who many said was the best at drilling and all his life, Yaslana had never seen the Eyrien inflict an injury on any female that was more than a light bruise, so it wasn't surprising.

"You were right," Lucivar said, watching Damara putting her glasses back on as the coven crowded her excitedly. "She _does _know how to use a stick." He smirked a little, "More so, a broken tree branch."

And Yaslana was glad that she didn't use that skill of hers on him when they first met.

.-.-.

_To be continued_

.-.-.

And that's Chapter 4, everyone. Again, I hope's it's alright. Thank you for taking your time to read 'Delivering Miracles', and I hope you'll continue doing so. See you all in Chapter 5, I hope ;p


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

.-.-.

1 – SaDiablo Hall. Drilling area

.-.-.

Yaslana watched as Damara's eyes that had been full of concentration lose their focus and shifted to one full of embarrassment when she finally noticed that he had been watching her going through the movements she'd been doing.

"Don't stop on my account," he said, making an illusion to show her that she could continue if she wanted, as he made himself comfortable on one of the chairs on the spacey veranda that overlooked the drilling area.

Damara hesitated, then shrugged, before slipping back into a stance and beginning her exercises, if that was what they were; all over again. Her movements weren't as smooth as before at first, since she seemed perturbed by an audience, but soon she was completely in focus, and moved with such a feline grace that Kaelas would have approved if he'd watched her do them.

_So she knows how to fight empty-handed as well _he thought, as he watched her movements with a fighter's eyes, impressed. _Hell knows if she'd attacked back then with that branch. . ._

He didn't want to think about it.

When she stopped and headed towards him, he made an illusion of himself and her sparring. "Wanna spar?"

She shook her head vigorously. Well, for a skilled fighter, she sure was reluctant to spar. He made another illusion of her practicing her punches and kicks on his palms. "How about we just practice, then?"

She nodded, albeit hesitantly and reluctantly. After quite a bit of well-aimed, powerful punches and kicks to his palms, Yasalana wondered if he had known what he'd gotten himself into when he tried not to _wince_ at the sight and feel of his reddening palms.

Then an idea struck him and he decided that better broken planks than his hands, as he called in a nice wooden plank between his hands and watched in anticipation whether Damara, as undeniably fragile, harmless looking as she was, with that surprising strength of hers, could break it.

.-.-.

2 – SaDiablo Hall, Drilling area

.-.-.

He stared. And stared. And _stared. _He resisted the urge to _rub_ his wide awake golden eyes.

Lucivar _couldn't_ believe the sight before him. And he wasn't sure which part of it shocked him _more_, the fact that the _very _personification of a late morning person, Yaslana; was _up_, or that _Damara_ was _breaking_ wooden planks with her _bare_ hands and feet with terrifying ease.

Yaslana blinked when he finally noticed that Lucivar was there. "Ah, Uncle Lucivar," he said. "Morning."

"Morning," Lucivar replied, heading towards them. His gaze fell onto the rather impressive heap of broken wooden planks beside them. "Don't tell me she. . .?"

Yaslana smiled. "Yep. My palms stung after she hit them for a bit, so I decided to use planks instead."

Lucivar placed a hand on top of Damara's head. "You, kid, are _frightening_. Really." He raised an eyebrow at her. "Don't tell me you were _holding back _yesterday. . .?"

Clueless dark brown eyes blinked at him questioningly.

"Morning," a new voice said just then. They all turned to see Saetan with a stack of papers in one hand at his side. "What're you doing awake so early, boy?" he asked, referring to Yaslana.

Yaslana shrugged evasively. "What's that?" he asked instead, pointing towards the papers he was carrying.

"Some papers from the Keep," came the reply. He sat down on one of the outdoor chairs, placing his work on a table. He looked pointedly at the broken wooden planks. "Do I or do I _don't _want to know about that?" he asked mildly.

Lucivar grinned. "Let's just say that even if Yas hadn't found the waif that night, she would've punched back at anything in that forest, fallen tree branch in hand or _not_."

Saetan was glad that his coffee was already in his stomach. This little new addition to their ever growing family sure couldn't be judged on looks alone. He'd have to remind himself of that.

Said girl looked curiously over his shoulder at his paperwork. "You want to see, child?" he asked, handing her a paper.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she read – or at least studied – the strange writing intently. She looked at Saetan before eyeing his pen, as if to ask for permission. After getting his consent, she pointed to a word on the paper, and made some hand movements as if asking him to illustrate the word she'd pointed to.

The word happened to be 'book' and Saetan, the High Lord of _Hell_, _Prince_ of Darkness, son of _Lorn's_ soul, whose _sons_ were the Warlord Prince of Ebon Rih and the Sadist, and had _Witch_ as the daughter of his soul; drew a book on his paperwork, in _ink_, even though he could've easily created an image of one.

Lucivar and Yaslana decided that it was rather funny that someone like him – known also as the Executioner – would follow such a young female's whims.

Said young female plucked the pen from Saetan's hand and wrote something. _"Book," _she said, pointing to her neat handwriting of a strange writing style they had never seen before. Then she looked questioningly at the word that meant 'book' in their language.

"Book," Yaslana said, understanding the look on her face.

"Book," Damara repeated. It was the first word she spoke in their language, other than their names, and she said it rather fluently.

_She must have a talent in speaking foreign languages _Yaslana thought.

"Good morning," another new voice said. It was Marian. "What are you all doing?"

"Damara wanted to know what a word in Saetan's paperwork meant," her husband replied. "She wanted him to illustrate it. Fortunately, or maybe not; the word was 'book'."

"Oh." Marian took a peek at said drawing and saw the neat, foreign handwriting beneath it, pointedly ignoring what her husband could've possible meant by 'maybe not'. "This is. . .?"

"How the word 'book' is written in her language," Yaslana explained.

Marian's gaze fell on Damara who was eyeing some of the blank papers in Saetan's stack of work. She also seemed reluctant to let go of his pen.

"Do you want to have your own book and pen, Damara?" she asked understandingly.

Damara looked cluelessly at her, but Marian, being a stationery lover herself; recognized a fellow stationery lover in the dark brunette.

"Well then," Marian said decisively, taking Damara's hand. "Let's get you one of each." She looked at the three men present. "Coming?" she asked.

Lucivar shook his head, kissing his wife on the temple. "If I go, those bums'll be sleeping their asses 'till noon and celebrating _Winsol_ early at missing drills. Sorry, sweetheart."

"It's alright, honey." Marian kissed him on the cheek.

"I'm coming," Yaslana said. "Just let me change out of this," he tugged at his sweaty shirt for emphasis.

"Let me put these back," Saetan said, referring to his stack of papers.

Marian nodded, before leading the still clueless Damara away to change into a more suitable outfit for a shopping spree.

.-.-.

3 – A shop in Ebon Askavi

.-.-.

The bookstore's shopkeeper almost _fainted_ – for _real _– when he saw who just strode into his humble shop, his first customers that lovely morn. A lesser man really _would _have gone out like a blown flame if they saw the Lady of Ebon Rih, her nephew; the Queen and Warlord Prince of Ebon Askavi's son, and his grandfather, the High Lord of Hell, or at least that was what he was rumored to be; escorting a lovely dark-haired girl he'd never seen before, into his just opened for business, considerably small, shop.

"Go-Good morning," the poor man managed to stammer. "May I be of service, my Lords? Ladies?"

The Lady of Ebon Rih's well-known Warlord Prince, Lucivar Yaslana; gave him a reassuring smile that made him lose his self-consciousness instantly. "Yes, Mr. Dale. My good little fellow female here," she placed a hand on Damara's shoulder, "Would like to see some of your wonderful, originally designed stationery."

Dale wasn't sure whether he should or shouldn't react to the fact that such a Lady knew his name or that she found his designs so original. He decided to react to the second fact. "I'm pleased that you find my stationery as such, Lady," he said, sincerely pleased.

He led them to the stationery section and they all watched as the young lady – who looked to be less than two decades old to his estimation – began observing the spiral bound notebooks on the shelf at her eye-level first, her eyes bright with unmasked delight.

Unaware that all four of them had smiled simultaneously at such an innocently lovely sight, Marian said to Damara, "Take your time, honey. Yas'll be with you while your Uncle Saetan and I will be looking around at the storybooks section, alright? If there's anything you want tot ask, then just ask either us or Mr. Dale, ok?", as she illustrated what she was saying with illusions.

Damara nodded, and returned her attention to the books. Dale wondered why the Lady had said such things to the younger lady, making it seem as if she was a child. Seeing the questioning look in the middle-aged shopkeeper's eyes, Marian explained. "She can't speak or understand our language. So if you want to ask her something, then please do so with the help of illusions, as I did, Mr. Dale. Thank you."

Then the three left the two together, with Damara inspecting the notebooks while Yaslana held the ones she liked, watching her with a smile on his face.

.-.-.

_To be continued_

.-.-.

Chapter Five's alright, I hope? In any case, thank you for taking your time to read 'Delivering Miracles'. Until Chapter Six, then :)


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

.-.-.

1 - SaDiablo Hall, Southern Side

.-.-.

Surreal, in all her glory; sank several inches more in the warm water that came to her chest, sighing in bliss. Such a luxury was soothing to the sore muscles that she'd gotten from, what else, but; Lucivar's morning drill and she was glad that 'Paradise', the name the coven gave to the enormous outdoor pool in the Hall; existed. A nice, long, warm bath was a girl's best friend, after all.

The rest of the coven joined her, and they all sighed blissfully just as she did when she first climbed into the pool. Oh, yes. A warm bath was just what a girl needed after a strenuous amount of muscle-aching drilling. _Especially_ when it was a drilling supervised by _Lucivar_.

Everyone began to talk, but Surreal didn't join in the conversation. She noticed that Jaenelle, Marian, Tersa and Wilhelmina, as well as the newest member of the coven, Damara; was missing. But before she could ask, Wilhelmina's voice could be heard from the dressing room, saying, "It's alright to wear a towel even when you enter the pool if you want to, Damara. Marian and I are planning to do that anyway, so you won't be the only one. And I'm sure Kalush, Arianna and Gabrielle are doing just that right now."

Surreal imagined Marian nodding when she heard what the Eyrien had said to back Wilhelmina up, "That's right. There's nothing for you to be embarrassed about, honey."

The golden-green eyed observer imagined the sometimes shy girl still looking hesitant, but her resolve fading. _"We-well, since you put it that way. . . it's okay then, I guess. . ."_

"Well then, come on," Jaenelle said, and they came out with Jaenelle's arm linked with her new charge's, who seemed to find the tiled pathway to be most interesting; looking embarrassed and even a little pink, the poor thing.

When everyone was finally in the pool, it got even louder than it had been earlier. And slowly, bit by bit, Damara was losing her self-consciousness and embarrassment, and was back to her usual, curious self as she looked back and forth between Janelle and Marian, who were beside her, one on each side, having an animated conversation. As usual, they used illustrations so that she wouldn't feel left out, and the currently not bespectacled girl even nodded or shook her head a couple of times, as if giving her opinion on whatever the conversation was about.

Surreal couldn't help but smile. Whoever sent her here knew just where and to whom she should be sent to, that was for sure. _You are definitely being watched over, sugar _she thought just as Kaelas' and Lardvarian's mates came to join the. _And very adequately, at that._

.-.-.

2 – SaDiablo Hall, Paradise, Male Section

.-.-.

"Ahhh. . .," sighed Daemonar out loud, sinking into the pool, arms on the sides of it; to support him up. "This is the life! Especially after dear old Dad's drilling. . ."

A hot, wet towel landed on his still dirty face, making him yelp. "Dear _old _Dad knows what to do for the next father-son outing now. Thanks, _baby _brat of mine," Lucivar said smilingly, making the rest of them laugh, including Daemonar himself.

Once they settled into the pool, just like their female counterparts, they began to talk. The SaDiablo males were all next to each other, Saetan and Daemon talking about something to do with work, while Lucivar and Yaslana talked about drilling. Daemonar was unusually quiet, and after a bit, Lucivar commented, "Deep thoughts, brat?"

Daemonar shrugged. "Not really. It's just. . .," his eyes wandered over to the coven's side of the pool that was over a tall wall, for a moment. "I was just thinking. . .does Damara have a family?"

Yaslana shrugged, "We haven't asked, and she didn't say anything. We don't want to push too many details out of her yet. After all, her coming here _is _a bit of a shock."

Saetan nodded in agreement. "Yaslana's right. But now that you've mentioned it. . . ," a thoughtful look crosses his face, "_Does _she have a family. . .?"

"I think she does," Daemon commented. "She's just so comfortable with everyone and seems to treat us like her relatives, for one. For another, I just can't imagine her to be an orphan. . . she just doesn't seem to be the type."

"She makes me feel as if I'm really her uncle," Lucivar admitted. "And I feel as if she's really my niece, and it's just been three days since I've known her!"

"She makes me feel like I'm her big brother too," Daemonar confessed. His gaze wandered to the coven's side of the pool again. "So then. . .if she really _does _have a family. . .do they know? Where she is, I mean?"

No one answered him. No one knew what the answer was, after all.

"Until we return her to them," Saetan broke the silence. "We'll have to take good care of her."

Daemon nodded. "That goes without saying."

_But _can _we get her to them? _Yaslana wondered. And if they could, was he going to be able to say goodbye to her?

His sapphire eyes looked at the wall separating the two sections of the pool. Only time will tell. . .

.-.-.

3 – SaDiablo Hall, Damara's room

.-.-.

"Damara?" Yaslana called out, knocking on the adjoining door between their bedrooms (His mother had given her the room, where in if he had a beau, would've stayed. Whether or not she was subtly hinting him to get settled down, he wasn't quite sure and wasn't about to find out). "Are you in there?"

No answer. But he was sure he'd heard and felt her enter earlier. He tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. He opened it a crack and peeked inside, but still couldn't see her. "Damara?" he called out again, closing the door behind him.

He saw her sitting down on the balcony, legs hugged against her chest, facedown on her lap and he felt relieved and worried at the same time. There was something about how still she was being. . .

". . .Damara?" he said gently, his hand on her shoulder making her jump. "Are you -"

His sentence was left hanging when she looked up at him, eyes red and swollen, brimming with tears that trailed down her face.

He immediately crouched down on the floor. She was about to wipe her tears away, but he gently, firmly stopped her. "It's okay, Damara," he said, as he embraced her stiffening form as gently and comfortingly as he could. "Cry. Just cry it all out."

After a while, she did just that. Her silent crying turned into sobs, wetting his white collared shirt, but he could care less. He rubbed her back soothingly, while his other arm secured her on his lap, draping over her skirt covered knees, his warmth she could feel even through the silk. They somehow ended up with his back against the sliding door leading to the balcony, him looking up at the sky while she listened to his steady heartbeat.

"_Yaslana," _she finally said, and he had to try his best to ignore the huskiness of her voice. _"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry. . ."_

"Silly girl," Yaslana said, eyes looking down at the top of her head. "You don't have to apologize."

Silence enveloped for a bit before she spoke again. _"It's just that. . .being with your family and friends these past few days made me remember my family. It's just been four days since I last saw them, but I. . .," _her grip on his shirt tightened, _"I know they're worried about me. . .and. . .oh, I just miss them so much!"_

He placed his chin on her head, further tightening his embrace, wondering, not for the first time, how was it that they could communicate this well even though they spoke in different tongues. "I'm sure they miss you too, Damara."

They stayed in that position for a bit, until she shifted a little and he took that as his cue to get his chin off of her, though he still held her in his arms.

She let go of his shirt, and was attempting to smoothen it out. It was all wrinkled up after being clutched by her fists and all. But Yaslana stopped her. She had no idea what her touch was doing to him, even if it was through a layer – heck, even layers, probably - of clothing. . .he wasn't about to take _another _shower like he almost had to the first time they met.

"_Umm. . .Yaslana?" _She didn't look at him, but he could see a light blush covering her cheeks. She glanced pointedly at both his arms from the corner of her eyes.

A small, small smirk graced his lips. He shook his head and hugged her even closer, making her heart skip a beat. He brought his face down until it was very close to her reddening one. "I prefer not to let go, Damara."

Her blush deepened until she was the same hue as her dark-blue, full-length, long sleeved dress (her face was dark crimson of course, not dark blue) and he chuckled amusedly, the sound of a purely satisfied male. "How cute," he said, grinning. "You look like a tomato!"

He leaned once more into her face as he was certainly in a teasing mood at the moment. "I _love _tomatoes."

"_Yaslana!" _Damara's ears were reddening too, and though he was sure that she had no idea what his last two sentences had said, she apparently has had enough of his teasing for today.

"Alright, alright," he said good-naturedly. But before she could get off him when he let go of her, she was suddenly a few feet above the ground in his arms, once again.

He looked down at her shocked face cheekily. "I _did _tell you that I prefer _not _letting go, didn't I? _Tomato-dearest_."

She blushed again, and he laughed. It was so easy to embarrass her! He eventually set her down though and after he did, she took hold of his sleeve, a gesture he learned that meant that she was about to say something.

"_Thanks," _she said almost inaudibly, shyly, looking at her feet.

He smiled, though she wasn't looking at him, his eyes soft.

"You're welcome."

.-.-.

_To be continued_

.-.-.

Yes, before any of you people say anything, this is what I have to say: "I am _still _pretty much alive – at least, the last time I checked I was - and am still kicking like a horse, at that."

So why haven't I updated in over a _year_ - cringes - ? Well, I have to confess that I've actually had this chapter for _quite_ a while – notice the emphasis on the quite - evades the various things being chucked angrily at her – Hell, is it just me or did I _really_ just missed being knocked out by that _kitchen sink _that just sailed past?! ;p -

I wasn't in the mood – and don't say I never mentioned that this is the way I work: Updating only when I'm in the mood to do so – to upload it and to tell you the truth, it was also partially because I was hesitant to include the part three of this chapter since it's so fluffy, if you know what I mean :-/

But then earlier today I was checking my profile here at and noticed that there was _quite_ a number of reviews for Chapter 5 and I thought, "Well Hell," and was in the mood enough to upload this chappie. Especially since I'm in a I-don't-care-if-you-think-this-chapter-sucks mood.

**Note (Please read): In case some of you haven't realized it yet, I'm going to tell you straight out – 'Delivering Miracles' is going to be a long, **_**SLOW**_**fic, so if you don't have the patience to wait for the seemingly non-existent plot to appear (and don't worry, there **_**is **_**a plot) then heed my words. . .**

"_**Run, run away **__(insert your name here) __**and never, ever, return,"**_** – **Haha, quoted from 'The Lion King' (I remember Scar saying this to Simba to make him willingly leave the place after Mufasa's death). **So yeah. That's my advice to you anyway. If you still wanna stick around, then be my guest. Just don't say I never mentioned the rate at which DM will be progressing.**

Anyways. Now that I have _that _out of my system – And let me tell you, what a relief it is - Thanks for taking your time to read 'Delivering Miracles' (especially if you've even read this long, _long_ afterword ). Until Chapter Seven then. . .hopefully :-/


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

.-.-.

1 – SaDiablo Hall, Yaslana's bedroom

.-.-.

Yaslana stopped mid-step on his way to his bedroom windrow. _This scent..._

He hurriedly drew his curtains, and sure enough, on the tree only a slight distance away from his balcony was – he sighed, who else but – Damara, who was wearing – luckily – trousers. Though that _didn't_ mean that she _wouldn't_ try to climb a tree even if she _was _wearing a dress, if he knew her as well as he thought he did by now.

"_**DAMARA**_!" he shouted, though she wasn't _that _far away. "WHAT THE _**HELL**_ ARE YOU DOING UP THERE?!"

She blinked at him, not understanding why he was shouting. She placed a finger against her lips, telling him to keep quiet. Before he could say anything to that, she pointed to something in front of her. It was a bird's nest. "One of them fell. I put it back," she said carefully, still not that fluent in speaking their language. Though then again, a handful of weeks wasn't exactly enough to master an entirely different language, unless you were some sort of genius, of course.

He gritted his teeth. "Well, just stay there. I'll get you down."

"But I –"

"_**STAY**_. _**THERE**_."

She did, sensing him to be to be in a thunderous mood and decided not to question his orders. He came not long after, black Eyrien wings on his bathrobe covered back; and carried her not to the ground, but into his room. Vanishing his wings; he kept her in his arms, which made her bristle at first, but the look in his eyes stilled her. She wondered where he was taking her and what the _Hell_ was wrong with him, as he walked towards the servants' quarters.

"Helene."

The housekeeper stiffened, abruptly finishing her orders to a few maids, whom she waved off before she finally turned to them. "Yes, Prince Yaslana?"

He set the clueless girl in his arms down. "Please give her what is necessary." Then he stalked off to his room.

Helene let out a sigh of relief when he was out of sight, which made her charge look even more puzzled. She simply smiled and led the younger girl to her bedroom, whilst pondering on how to explain to her that Yaslana was how he was because he was on the killing edge due to her moon's blood that seemed to have just started, which apparently Damara herself didn't realize yet.

.-.-.

2 – SaDiablo Hall

.-.-.

"Daemon? What's wrong?" Janelle asked when her husband abruptly stopped in his tracks after they had descended from the carriage they'd been using.

"It's Damara," he answered uneasily, as he walked hastily towards the front door.

"Eh? But...," she checked Damara's psychic scent, who happened to be in the den. It was normal. "What's-"

"Moon's blood," he barely nodded to Beale as he headed straight towards the den. "She's having her moon's blood."

Worried, as she didn't think that anyone had warned Damara about how moon's blood can affect Blood males, she hurried after her consort.

...Only for them to find the two people they'd been worrying about doing the last thing they'd expect.

"Is this right?" Damara, who was on her stomach atop the carpet near the fireplace, slid her book to their son, who sat with his back against a cushioned chair.

He looked at it for a moment, and then said, _"Yes, it is." _Then he looked at her.

She nodded. "Yes, what you said is correct."

The pair of parents stared at the couple, who hadn't noticed their arrival yet. Daemon decided to get their attention by clearing his throat, which got the desired effect. Damara sat up immediately. "Aunt Janelle! Uncle Daemon! Welcome back!"

"It's good to be back," Daemon said carefully, eyeing his silent son. "Are you two learning each other's languages again?" he asked the obvious question.

She nodded, showing her book – one of the books she'd bought during that shopping trip they went on, which she used to write down all the words in their language which she had learned - to him.

In normal circumstances, he would've patted her on the head fatherly. But since _someone _was _glaring_ a _hole_ into him at the moment, he decided not to risk it. Instead, he said, "Yes, well done. You've learned quite a bit of our language in this one month you've been here.'

The girl shrugged upon hearing his praise, as she stood up. "I need to go to the restroom," she said in general, although everyone in the room knew she was actually directing it to Yaslana. "Be back in five or so."

Janelle trailed after her. "I need to go too." The two disappeared to the ground floor's restroom, leaving the two males to stare at their backs until they were gone from sight.

As soon as they were, Yaslana cleared his throat. "Sorry about that, Father."

Daemon shrugged, settling into the armchair across from him. "It's fine. I know how it is."

"_I _was the first one to notice that she was having it," Yaslana practically mumbled. "Even before _she _herself did."

_Ouch, _Daemon thought, but didn't say anything out loud.

"The_ first_ smell I caught a whiff of the moment I was completely awake was that of someone's moon blood," Yaslana continued. "But it came from _outside _my _balcony_, so I was wondering if I was actually still _dreaming_ or that maybe there was a species I wasn't aware existed that lived in trees and also had moon's blood. Of course, it wasn't either of that._ Damara_ was _sitting_ on a _tree branch_ that looked like it could _barely just_ support her weight, looking for all, like she did it everyday."

"What was she was doing in a tree?" Daemon asked, wondering if she'd been wearing a dress. For a Warlord Prince to see an excess of skin on the girl he was interested in, especially one that was on the _killing edge_, with the girl having her _moon's blood_ to boot; could _undoubtedly _trigger barely controlled reactions.

Yaslana sighed, as though he himself couldn't believe what he was going to say next. "She was returning a fallen baby bird to its nest."

Daemon shook his head. _Really, that girl... _"But she _did _wear trousers, didn't she?"

Yaslana nodded. "_Fortunately_." He set his gaze on the door leading to the corridor.

"You two seem to be doing alright, though," his father observed.

Yaslana shrugged. "I brought her to Helene after I took her down the tree. I was going to leave after my shower, but then I saw her carrying this _basketful_ of her clothes up the stairs."

He sighed in exasperation. "I couldn't help it. I asked her, as gently as I could, which was through _clenched_ teeth; _why _she was the one bringing her own clothes up and she said, 'I wanted to do something useful.' I let her carry the damn thing halfway before I carried it for her." His eyes had a faraway look in them. "I was about to try and leave _again_ when I saw her going into the _kitchen_."

"Mother Night," Daemon managed to say.

Yaslana nodded. "_Exactly._ Before any shouting could start, I entered Mrs. Beale's sacred domain and saw her carrying this _fifty pound sack of flour_ in her arms easily, and Mrs. Beale _smiling_."

He shook his head, as if to rid himself of that image. "I wanted to _run_ then, but I steeled myself and sat at the table. Mrs. Beale took one look at me, and then went back to her cooking, _fortunately_. Damara stood beside her, watching her cook and went off to get various things when Mrs. Beale told her to. And while she cooked, she _gossiped_ with Damara."

He looked at his father, who looked shocked. "_Mrs. Beale_?_ Gossip_?While _cooking_?" his usually slick-with-words father sputtered.

Yaslana nodded. "Then, she asked Damara to have a _taste_ of what she was cooking." He shook his head. "Hell's fire. I've eaten her food since I was a _babe_, but I've _never_ seen this side of her before. This must be what Mother meant by 'Only by being with someone like Marian will you be able to leave Mrs. Beale's undisputed domain unscathed when she's cooking'."

Daemon chuckled, remembering how he'd heard of his dear sister-in-law exchanging recipes with Mrs. Beale on their _first _meeting. "How _true_ that is."

"After she _finally _decided to leave, I thought I'd be able to finally make an escape." His only son shook his head. "How _wrong_ I was. She'd headed straight towards the stables, and I had a feeling it wasn't because she planned to ride, so I trailed after her, determined _to tie her to a chair_ if she tried to clean any stalls."

Daemon couldn't help but smile. His son being his brother's namesake wasn't simply just that. They could be so alike sometimes, it was _alarming_. Just look at the way they chose to restrain _their_ women...

Not that his dear boy was going to admit to Damara being that just yet any time soon, of course.

"It turned out that she wanted to check on one of the unicorns, who was _pregnant_. _And_ who happened to be in _labor_." He huffed. "She must've quite a bit of knowledge on animal health or something, because she took one look at the mare and asked me to get whoever was the animal Healer here. But since _none _of the Healers present had dealt with animals before, and with no other kindred horses _present_, she as-a-matter-of-factly muttered, _'What to do,' _and, rolling up her sleeves, asked me to get some things while she comforted the mare, who was already lying on her side."

He stopped for a moment. Then, "While doing that, she prepared for the foal's coming at the same time, her free hand that wasn't stroking the mare's flank laying the towel I brought to where the foal was to come out, and at the same time, she asked me to get hold of the mare's mate – Kaetien."

"Ah, so it's Atalanta who's pregnant," Daemon noted, having just remembered that the mare had wanted to have her foal here, near to his wife's presence.

Yaslana nodded. "So I called him on a thread and would've gone _deaf_ right now if we'd been communicating normally. The unicorn had _screamed _his reply back at me, I _swear_; and almost made my head _explode _at the volume he was using. Not to mention, I now know new _curse _words."

Daemon chuckled. Ah, how his offspring had suffered today...

"By the time he _did _come, the foal was already starting to come out. If they'd been human, or had hands, I'd bet Kaetien's hand would've been _completely_ misshapen after the ordeal, thanks to his mate's grip on it. But since Atalanta couldn't do that, not even _kick_ or _impale _him with her horn, she content herself with spouting _worse-than-death_ threats to her beloved, dangerously _pale_ counterpart; who only said, 'Yes' meekly in response to everything she had screamed at him, as he brushed his face against hers, the only way he could comfort her at the time."

"Damara had moved to receive the foal, and encouraged Atalanta to push when she stopped. And soon, she had the foal on the towel, and then made room for Kaetien to help his filly up, which she did with success on her first try. So grateful and proud the new parents were, that they asked her to name their first child, feeling honored if she'd do so. So, after a bit, Damara said, 'How about "Dreamspeaker"?' as she looked at the white-maned and tailed, lavender-coated filly. 'She looks like this unicorn I'd read in a book before.' So Dreamspeaker it was, and the filly's ears had perked up when the word was said, as if she knew it was what she was to be called from then on."

"Busy day today," Daemon commented simply. "And to think, your Mother and I'd just left you for one day."

Yaslana groaned in reply. "I _know_. And I imagined what the next four or six days were going to be like...and wished I _hadn't_."

Daemon patted his shoulder sympathetically. "Don't worry. If you can survive your _Mother's _period of moon's blood all this while, then you _shouldn't _have much of a problem."

Hah. And 'Mother Night' really _was_ the title of a naughty song, as his other little sister-in-law would say.

.-.-.

_To be continued_

.-.-.

**Note: The Kaetien here is Kaetien's son, who was named after him.**

And here's Chapter Seven, everyone. Hope you enjoyed it, and as always, thanks for taking your time to read 'Delivering Miracles'. Until the next chapter then :)


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